Potassium
by silvaaeterna
Summary: On any other day, Near would have continued to his room without a second thought. Today was different, though. Today, somehow, it didn't seem right to leave Matt in such a state. He'd been left behind already, after all. Near-centric oneshot.


**Summary:** On any other day, Near would have continued to his room without a second thought. Today was different, though. Today, somehow, it didn't seem right to leave Matt in such a state. He'd been left behind already, after all.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Death Note or any of its characters. I just like messing with their heads.

**A/N:** I promised I wouldn't do this again, but here it is: another random oneshot when I should be working on my next _SDmDN_ chapter. Unlike the last time, though, I wrote this whole thing in a single day, and only spent a brief time today polishing it up, so hopefully it won't kill my motivation to write said chapter... x.X;

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**Potassium**

The only sounds in the dim hallway were the echoes of rain and the soft steps of socked feet. The hard wooden floors were scratched and scuffed, signs of the children who on any other day ran and played here. They would talk and joke and laugh, tackle and roughhouse, yell and fight, fall and scrape their knees and cry until someone told another joke and began the cycle again. Any other day but today. Today they locked themselves in their rooms; today no one dared to break the silence, because the rain alone was almost loud enough to drown out the bells of the old stone church down the road.

White socks padded along, undisturbed by the harsh silence. He was alone, but that didn't bother him. He hadn't seen a single person in the ten minutes he'd spent outside his own room, save for the cook, who busied himself setting out cold breakfasts in the empty cafeteria. It seemed that Near was not the only child who preferred taking his meal to his room on this morning. Today, the quiet and solitary boy didn't seem so out of place; if an outsider were to visit now, they would look at Near, and they would look at the barren halls and closed doors, and they would surely think that all the others must be just like him. Something about that notion was rather unnerving.

As he passed the fourth door, he adjusted his white pajama bottoms. His breakfast, a medium-sized banana, carefully chosen for its ideal yellow hue with just a sprinkling of brown spots, rested in his pocket, the weight of it tugging down his loose pants with each step. The movements of his hand were slow and subtle, and to anyone else, it would have looked as if he was merely touching the fabric. They wouldn't think much of the action, and at most would simply note it as another compulsion, like his hair-twirling, just as he intended. Why the boy put up such a pretense to hide this trivial adjustment of his clothing, which wouldn't have raised any questions from his non-existent onlookers to begin with, even Near himself couldn't fully explain. An issue of control, perhaps.

Just two more doors before the corner, where he would turn to reach his room in a private hall. His rank had gained him respect from the teachers and staff, and even if they did not understand his habits, they were happy to oblige his wishes for privacy. Genius, and whatever quirks went with it, was not something that was ever questioned here.

At the last door, his small socked feet paused in their shuffling. He raised his hand up, resting it beside his ear as his finger wound itself in a particularly curly lock of white hair. Room 201, the number proclaimed in tarnished silver on a door covered in dents and scratches. Mello and Matt's room – no, just Matt's now. Near's blank face twitched to life, the slightest of scowls tugging at his mouth.

Mello, the only one who'd ever paid real attention to him, even if that attention was fueled only by hatred – who'd spent so long trying to figure him out, if only to find a weakness to exploit – was gone.

Mello, the only person who might have noticed his subtle scowl, was gone today, and nearly as unreachable as L himself.

The stillness of that door should have been a relief. Mello had always somehow heard his soft steps from inside that door, even when the halls were filled with the noises of children. But today, it didn't swing open to unleash that familiar blonde fireball on him, cursing and yelling and insulting and growling and doing anything in the world just to pull Near out of his cold demeanor – to annoy or anger him, to get _some_ kind of reaction, even though his efforts had never worked. He should have been content that he could now get to his room without interruption, without Mello jumping out at him and derailing his thoughts.

Instead, the absence of the petulant Slav was rather unsettling, and made his stomach ache, which only reminded him of his hunger.

The pale boy took a small step away from that door, left hand lightly touching the banana through his pocket as his right continued to worm its way into his hair. He had much work to do that day, and no time to dawdle here. In a kind of self-destruct maneuver, all of L's case files had been deleted at the time of his death. Today, Near would have to start piecing together the Kira case from the very beginning. Even after just one sleepless night of research, he already had a veritable mountain of police data to sort through. The carbohydrates in the banana should sustain him for a few more hours, and he would certainly need to intake as much vitamin C, potassium, and fiber as he could to sustain his health. His task was too important to be jeopardized by some minor illness.

"Aah!"

The choked cry rang out in the silent hall, echoing lightly from the old walls and stopping Near in his tracks. There was no doubt: it had come from room 201.

"_Fuck_, aah!"

Yes, those painful sounds came from Matt. Near twirled and squeezed at the lock of hair between his fingers. Was he crying, he wondered? He didn't know the redheaded boy very well, but he and Mello had been quite inseparable – or, at least, Matt had been inseparable from Mello. Near had often observed him following the blonde around like his own personal lapdog, staying behind only when expressly told to do so. Mello, however, hadn't seemed to take issue with leaving his so-called best friend behind.

"_Damn it_!" came a guttural growl. If not for the quiet of the House, it probably would have been inaudible. It was followed by a loud _thump_, which Near decided must have been Matt striking the wall. He had to be extremely upset over Mello's leaving.

On any day but today, he would have continued to his room without a second thought.

Near looked down the still hallway at the doors he'd passed moments ago. Despite the noise, none of them budged; not a single curious child peeked out to investigate the racket. He knew there were no staff members on this floor, because he would have passed by them if that were the case. Matt was quiet now, and though he wanted nothing more than to hurry to his room, the return of the hall's former silence was slowly twisting the ache in his stomach into a knot. Whether he liked it or not, if the fool had hurt himself, it was now Near's responsibility.

Scanning the hall once more for any signs of life, he quietly knocked twice on the beaten door of room 201. His only response was a painful, forced grunt, but it didn't sound like a refusal. Untangling his fingers from his hair, he carefully turned the knob and eased open the door. The rain was louder in here, rhythmically pitter-pattering against the single window.

"...Mel?" the boy asked between two struggling gasps. Near stepped forward into the room, his pale face peering out from behind the door, loose white curls casting strange shadows over emotionless grey eyes. Matt was curled on his bed in his boxers, sheets kicked off his body and impossibly twisted around one bare foot, eyes tightly shut and brimming with tears.

"No," he replied simply.

"Near..?"

"Yes." The albino padded fully into the room, gently closing the door behind him. Matt gritted his teeth, stifling another cry as his body shook and convulsed on the bed. He rolled onto his back for a brief second, let out a pained yelp, and immediately retreated into his previous position. Near noticed that, for all his wiggling about, he kept one leg still.

"Are you hurt?" Near ventured, taking a cautious step towards the bed.

"My... leg," he muttered, one hand ghosting over his left thigh. His body twitched all at once, and he ground his teeth together as a single pathetic whimper escaped his throat. "Feels like it's... ripping apart!"

"Is the pain centered in the calf muscle?" Near inquired, twirling another lock of hair. He observed the careful way Matt was holding the lower part of the leg just slightly above the covers, stubbornly unmoving, as if any touch or jarring would make it worse.

"Yeah," the older boy managed, his breathing ragged and labored.

"And you've just woken up, correct?" Matt could only nod in agreement, shaking his dark red hair, eyes still closed.

"It is only a muscle cramp, Matt. A 'charlie horse,' typically caused by a lack of potassium. It will subside momentarily," Near explained, glancing back at the door. He wasn't injured; this wasn't something that needed to be treated or cared for. He could leave now, but didn't. Today, somehow, it didn't seem right to leave Matt in such a state. He'd been left behind already, after all.

That thought grated at Near's insides, making that troublesome knot grow heavier - but Mello had chosen his own way. It wasn't as if Near had pushed him into leaving.

"Aah... It fucking _hurts_," Matt whined, though it was obvious from the slowing of his convulsions and twitches that the pain was already lessening. Near said no more, instead slowly sitting on the rug between Matt's messy bed and the tidy, empty one where his boisterous blonde roommate should have been. He hugged one knee to his thin chest, and slowly began to fidget with another lock of hair. He watched Matt's face, flushed and worn from his ordeal over these few agonizing minutes, the red on his cheeks highlighting the faint dusting of freckles around his nose.

Finally, the boy relaxed his leg and opened his eyes, the soft grey orbs shining and wet beneath fallen locks of mussy red hair. His panting slowed, and he stared for a moment at the pale boy in front of him before glancing toward the empty bed. He let out a breathy, forced laugh.

"I guess Mello stayed up all night in the library again..," he mumbled. Near blinked up at him, fingers pausing in his pigment-less hair. His cold, steely grey briefly met Matt's gentle, slightly green-tinted grey. His eyes were honest and hid nothing. This wasn't denial. He actually _didn't know_.

Near's fingers repetitively twisted and untwisted the lock of hair, a smile creeping along his ashen face. How interesting...

"Matt, when did you last see Mello?"

"Huh?" Matt blinked down at the younger boy. "Oh, um, before last period yesterday. Must have gone straight to the library after class..."

Mello had left Wammy's House for good, apparently without informing his best friend, or even saying a simple goodbye. Matt didn't have a clue, and probably knew nothing of L's death either. When Mello wasn't dragging him along somewhere, Matt always seemed to stay in their room, probably playing with the many video games stacked in the far corner. Without Mello to push him, he most likely had not attended the assembly held yesterday evening, which meant he was currently the only person in the House who didn't know about L's death.

Now it was Near who would have to break the news. That irritating knot was still weighing on his empty stomach, but he couldn't deny the odd rush that accompanied it. There was something rather satisfying in knowing something more about Mello than Matt did.

"He's not in the library."

"You know where he is, then?" Matt carefully sat up on the bed, gingerly placing his left foot on the floor as he untangled his right from the knotted bedsheets. Near's smile unconsciously grew.

"He left, probably while you were still in class," the pale boy deadpanned. Matt's eyes snapped wide open, fearful and shocked.

"The hell..," he stuttered, "the hell are you talking about?"

"Roger pulled us aside just before last period began," Near explained, smile dissipating as his face faded back to its usual blank state, "to tell us that L had died. Mello became upset and declared that he was leaving the orphanage."

"L is..? Mello? He can't be..," Matt mumbled, pushing quickly onto his feet. He nearly fell backwards as his left leg buckled beneath him. He cursed under his breath, shifting all his weight onto his good leg as he stubbornly remained standing.

"You... You're lying!" Matt suddenly shouted, limping forward until he towered over Near. The albino slowly stood as well, though the older boy was still a few inches taller.

"I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind speaking to you about it..."

Before he'd even noticed Matt's arm moving, Near was sent flying backwards by the redhead's fist. His head hit the corner of Mello's untouched bed as his thin body collapsed onto the floor. Matt was already making his way across the room in an awkward, limping sprint. He flung open the closet door as Near collected himself and sat up. Matt was on his knees, throwing blue jeans and striped shirts behind him as Near tended to his throbbing nose. Tears began to stream down Matt's face amid curses and cries, and a tiny rivulet of blood trickled toward quiet Near's lip.

Any other day, he would have got up silently then and left, but today was the only day that Near had ever seen such a look on Matt's typically unremarkable face. The pain of the leg cramp seemed trivial compared with the pathetic, broken desperation now written on the boy's features. It made that insufferable knot tighten in Near's gut. He felt compelled to stand again, to go to Matt, if only to see what the closet held that could cause the normally carefree boy such anguish.

Near pushed himself up off the floor, adjusting his clothes slightly, almost imperceptibly. Matt was sobbing by the time the albino reached the closet. His shoulders shook with choked cries, his hand held over his mouth as he tried to silence them. Near stood behind him, carefully looking over the nearly empty closet.

Matt had thrown all of his clothes out into the room, covering the desk and beds and television in stripes, while the heavier jeans had all sank to the floor. There was nothing left in the closet but a few scattered video game boxes and crumpled chocolate wrappers. Mello's clothes, like Mello himself, were simply gone.

Outside, the wind howled and blew the rain harder against the window. The branches of the old oak outside swayed and scraped the glass, but even this couldn't drown out the torturous sounds of the abandoned boy's despair.

"He didn't tell me," Matt whispered. "Why wouldn't he have told me..?"

Near only stood silently, wiping away the drying blood below his nose. He had seen people deal with such situations before. They would tell the other person that everything would be all right, hug them, or simply lend them their shoulder to cry on. He was capable of none of these things, he knew, and on any other day, he wouldn't have even _considered_ something so preposterous.

Today was different, though. Today, Near was just another orphan, quiet and subdued by his role model's sudden death and the absence of the House's most energetic member.

Today, there was common ground between them.

Near pulled the banana out of his pocket, slightly bruised now, its little brown spots reminiscent of the redhead's freckles. He stepped to Matt's side and held it out to him.

Matt looked up, his sobs momentarily stopped, and blinked in confusion at the fruit hanging in front of him. He then glanced up at the younger boy – Near's face was as emotionless as ever, though.

"Potassium," he said in flat monotone. "Unless you would rather experience another cramp tomorrow morning..."

Matt wiped the tears from his cheeks before taking the banana. He seemed to study it, turning it over in his lap for a full minute, as if he didn't quite know what to do with it. Near noticed his left leg twitching beneath him, the sore muscles protesting the way he was sitting. It must have been quite painful, but Matt didn't budge.

"Thanks," he whispered at last, his eyes still cast down. Near took this as his cue to leave.

He closed the door behind him gently, unsurprised to find that the halls were still quite empty and silent, save for the rain and wind beating against the old building. Near padded back the way he'd come; he wasn't exactly content with having to go back to the kitchen again, but at least the knot in his stomach had finally loosened its grip.

Winding a curl of white hair around his finger, he decided that he'd rather have a less ripe banana anyway.

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**A/N:** Seriously, if you've never experienced one, charlie horse cramps _really hurt_. Funny how the feeling that your calf muscle is trying to rend itself in twain can be so inspiring... x.X;

I've been wanting to experiment with Near for a while, even if I don't particularly care for him. The idea of writing him has always been intimidating to me, but rather intriguing as well, since I actually have a lot in common with him, both good and bad... Even though the story's rather short, I've injected a bit of my own personality into him. Through the habits we share, I've looked to myself to try and find out what his motivations might be. For the unknowns, I've estimated his actions by asking myself what I would honestly do in his situation. Please don't think any less of me for it... Similar as I am to him, I'm a lot less evil and arrogant. Really. :P

We never see Near's human side in the canon, and only rarely even in fandom. There are a lot of people who don't like him at all, and very few fics ever seem to get him in character. I'm not saying my version of him is any better, but I am hoping that my... unique perspective on his personality can lend him a bit more depth. Doesn't mean that he'll be any more _likable_, of course...

**Fun Fact:** I've learned that potassium, in its pure form, is violently reactive to water – including the water vapor in the air. The reaction produces flammable hydrogen gas. Even when stored properly, over time it forms shock-sensitive peroxides inside its container, which can actually detonate when the container is opened... A nice unintentional metaphor for our dear Mello, eh? ;)

**Review, please?**


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